


I'll come up with a better title later and fix this... I hope.

by magical_octopus333



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John Watson, M/M, Prince Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:38:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4051807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magical_octopus333/pseuds/magical_octopus333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, a young prince out and about wandering by foot through the woods, when he meets John, a centaur, the same type of creature he had been told killed his eldest brother, Sherinford, who saves him from a group of evil dwarves working under Moriarty, a half human half spider creature. Through their adventures, Sherlock meets Molly Hooper, a mermaid, Greg lestrade, another centaur, and others while he and John solve mysterys, including what really happened to Sherinford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The bronze centaur.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is my first fic using AO3, and I'm a bit rough being new to fanfic writing so feedback wood be lovely. Basically, this is a fairytale version johnlock with some different elements.

Sherlock was not having the best day. No, definitely not. Mycroft had just ranted to him about his royal duties as being one of princes of London, and how making a mess in his lab was definitely 'not good'. He didn't mean for a purple gaseous explosion to turn half the staff and Mycroft himself lilac. And yes, lilac, not purple, which was another 'not good' thing to point out while Mycroft was yelling. His brother isn't the same as he was. We had better times in youth, but that was before the other one passed. He was the oldest of the three. Supposedly brilliant, but never as smart as Sherlock. He knew that, for he had beaten his brother multiple times in chess, but never physically. Only then could his brother Sherinford win. But, he is gone and Sherlock has never found out why exactly that is. Mycroft doesn't fully know either, but told Sherlock as much as he knew. “Father told me he and a fellow men of his were in the forest hunting when Sherinford was shot, bow and emerald-tipped arrow through the chest by a centaur. His men returned with that tale, but I do not believe those men. That is what I know, but Father and Mummy do not want to bring him up again, and nor do I.” Those were his exact words. That was one of the few things he did right. That, and how he used science to find a way to increase crop production. Bit disgusting, but it worked. Like magic, some people thought, which nearly got him burnt at the stake since he was seven at the time. The people still call him a freak for that, and his cool demeanor.  
He had been walking through the forest for a while, looking for rare plants for his experiments. He was a scientist in a time before them, so it looked t many like sorcery but he used it more with healing. That was another thing. He'd go to town and people called him a witch, like the sorceress in the western kingdom of Oz. He was confused by this one girl who asked him for a pair of ruby slippers, which in secret he obliged to. He had made her a pair, and left them at her back door with a note. “I know not thy name or thy reason for such apparel, but I hath brought thee thy request with my own requests. May thee keep these shoes for as long as thou live, never tell a soul upon its origins, and that I may know your name.” He found out later that she kept the former two promises, but was killed by robbers before she could complete that request of her name. He had then cast the shoes into the forest, never to be seen yet again. But, he keeps the memory as a warning. Don't get too close or people will get hurt. Like Sherinford; like the girl.  
He had finally found the The Partridgeberry bush he had been roaming for when a war cry sounded in the distance in front of him. He knew that war cry, the cry of the dwarves. This is not his first time, nor would it be the last time he's heard their cry. The dwarves were under Moriarty's control. Who is Moriarty? He is half spider half man and cruel to many. He wrecked havoc throughout the forest and many thought this to be the real killer of Sherinford. This was proven false by the arrows, for Moriarty's men swear against ever using emerald-tipped bows. "That's child's play, emerald tipping, usually centauran. We don't lower ourselves to the ways of those animals. If ours have slain thy kind, their tips are flamed, purple flames from Sorcerer Sebastian himself. Long live the Arachian!" The Arachian is what they call him, for he is of a kind long gone. There aren't images of him unless spoken through words. One knight had met the man before. "He had eyes dark like the unforgiving night and skin paler than the moon, and his hard pushed pack black as coal. He worn a white tunic, torn a bit, and only that, for no pants could be worn, my Liege. He had a large black sphere below the tunic as part of his body, and from there eight black legs each covered in thin black hairs as was where they grew from. He didn't speak out loud, but glanced at one of his men who struck me out. After that, I recall blackened vision and that chant. 'Long live the Arachian. Long live the Arachian' ringing through my ears... Then, I woke up here with you my-my Liege... that's it." Sherlock was in the court that day as knight Lewis recalled meeting Moriarty. He was one of the three from his men that survived a battle with Moriarty's army. Many were dwarves, some where satyrs, some where creatures unknown. Sherlock had sat next to Mycroft during the hearing, at Mycroft's right side. On his left was his father, the king, then their mother, the queen, the left of the king. They had to sit through as the man retold his tale before them. And here Sherlock had done another not exactly good but still not as bad as it could have been. He had hesitated and whispered no under his breath. "I'm sorry, what was that Prince Sherlock" Lewis inquired. Sherlock had glanced at Mycroft and mouthed 'sorry' before he got up "No, Lewis, that is not it." Sherlock began. "What thy doth not tell of to thine court is what happened when thy awoke. Stain of blood on the back of thy shirt, smudged in place where thou can not reach by means of normalcy, and even the most simple maid knows how to dab at blood, so someone else was there trying to help you, not a nurse or maid. Now, who could that place. Thy family had left thee and the kingdom, common knowledge, there by making it someone not connected by blood. Our kingdom has teaching that females all learn about treating wounds, so not a female. Now this could be any army man, just helping out, but that is not the case. Now that I have your attention, I'd like to ask about the cave." Now, the room went silent until the king remarked "What cave?" Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "Yes, cave. Left shoulder has rain droplets still drying since he was found an hour after the event. And it hasn't rained for a while, hence why people are complaining about the drought and why we sent men into the forest looking for a water source for a possible channel." Again, they were silent until the king replied, "Of course. Lewis, the cave?" Lewis nodded before he explained. "The cave had a few torches, water dripping from pointed rocks from the roof and was dark brown." "Who else was in there with you, not including yourself and Moriarty." "Their were two of Moriarty's men, human men, behind him, can not recall their faces. Then, there were the other two bound up to the rocks-" "Stalagmites." "Stalagmites... and a few of the men whom had been killed in battle. Do I need to tell you about 'em to? Their mangled corpses, my brother's head in the mix, hm?" Sherlock stared down as Lewis glared. "At least Terrence wasn't there, but he is a cook and has no means being there." Lewis turned bright red at the name in anger and embarrassment. "Terrence?" The queen asked. Mycroft sighed and said, "The cook, Mum. Head cook. Sherlock, leave this poor man alone, and go down to the kitchen and give Terrence the day off. And, if anyone has a word against Terrence and Lewis-" "I do not lay with men!" Lewis spat, and the court turned back to him. "Incorrect." Sherlock replied curtly. "Currently, there are no female cooks and the flour is evident on your black pants in some certain-" "Sherlock!" Mycroft yelled, standing up. Everyone turned to Mycroft at that moment. "The court holds nothing against a man laying with a man as another man lies with women, the same in reverse for women. If you have any words against that, you may speak to me personally. And Lewis, please. It is absolutely obvious and the man behind you does not seem happy at thy words." The cry was loud and shrewd, the mark of dwarves screaming. He reached for his swords, but they were stuck in their sheathing. Panic spread to his face as the dwarves came into view, all upon their small horses, flaming arrows at draw upon ivory bows. He was frozen in fear when the sound of a running horse came trampling behind him. He looked at the dwarves who held terror in their eyes stumble back, a few dropping their weapons. All eyes where looking behind him. Before he too could look, an arm grabbed Sherlock up by the back of his cloak and pulled him onto the back of the horse body. It reared into the air so Sherlock wrapped his arms around the stranger's torso. Then, they turned and trotted off quickly, not yet a gallop.The dwarves were quiet for a moment before they took to their war cry. The pair sped up with that into a thunderous gallop, Sherlock tightened his arms around the torso before him, closing his eyes and holding on for dear life to his tunic. They galloped deeper into the forest as the dwarves chased behind them. The wind ran roughly through Sherlock's curls as they passed tree after tree. Eventually, the cries had disappeared once they had reached a deep river further into the forest at which they stopped. Sherlock hops off the horse back as gracefully as a newborn giraffe and fell promptly face first into dirt. A hearty giggle sounded behind him from the man who had saved him. Sherlock pushed up onto his knees and spat dirt from his mouth. "Not funny" he said and the giggles became louder. Soon, he chuckled a bit too in his deep laughter. He got off his knees and looks around before he turns back to look at the man who saved him, walking towards the embankment. He filled his hands with water and washed the muck from his fair face before turning and walking to he who had saved him. He was looking down as he walked to him, but looked up as he started. "Thank you-" he stumbled a bit back upon sight. That's when he fully saw who had saved him. A centaur man with blond hair and a bronze fur, eyes blue as the sky and a scared look upon his face. Sherlock had been taken away by a centaur, like the ones whom had supposedly killed his brother.


	2. Pink tailed and Scarlet tailed

“You're a cent-” “Please don't kill me, your highness!" the bronze centaur exclaimed. The man backed up a bit, eyes filled with fear. "I-i just saw you s- surrounded by men, I didn't think it was you, just another man in charm. Please, don't.” Sherlock looked into the centaurs eyes before he replied. “I will not kill thee, for thee has saved my life, but may thee answer me this. Why did your kind kill my brother?” The centaur looked confused for a moment before his eyes widened. “That's why your kingdom has been killing centaurans!” the centauran whispered. He looked down at his muddy hooves before continuing. “I'm sorry about your brother, but he hasn't been killed by my kind, I swear. We didn't even know he'd been killed, just that out of the blue, you all started killing my kind. Sorry. He was a great man, Sherlock." He sighed before looking back up, a soft smile on his face. "Always kind to us on his hunts, warn us before they began usually. The name is John, since you didn't ask.” “Sherlock.” Sherlock replied, his own surprise on his face. “We know of you, Sherlock, the 'wizard prince'. According to Greg, you turned him and others purple. Is that true?” Sherlock winced. He knew John was of great veracity and a possible friend if all goes well. The closest he has came to a friend, not including his brothers and one of his old nannies, since the girl of scarlet shoes. He looked down as he nodded. 'Now he must think I'm mad. here we go...' he closed his eyes waiting for the insult that didn't come. “Brilliant!” John replied, a smile blooming upon his face. Sherlock looked up at John, his confusion on his face again. “That's not what people usually say...” Sherlock confessed. “ What do they usually say?” John inquired. “Piss off” John began to giggle like a child, and soon Sherlock's own deep rumble followed suit.

“Johnny boy, what ever could be so amusing?” a voice spoke out, stopping the pair's mirth as they look towards the river where the sound originated as two females popped up. One had black hair in a bun atop her head with one long strand falling beside her light skin, blood red lips, and eyes like those from a storm at sea, a silver green blue storm. Beside her was a girl not as bold with her auburn hair braided in one long braid, chestnut eyes and a soft smile on her fair face. They rested by the edge of the river, their torsos bearing each a bra, a red one for the one with black hair and a pink for the brunette. “Hello..” the brunette spoke timedly to John but on sight of Sherlock straightened up and barked “Your majesty, why are you here and swear on your life it may be on peace not to kill our John.” She had risen up, showing a pink band at her waist. “No, I'm not-” Sherlock stuttered before trying again calmly “I mean him, nor thee any harm, miss...” “Hooper, Molly Hooper. And this is my fellow mermaid, Irene Adler. Bare warning your highness, that if I find that you have led a friend of mine to harm, you'd have hell to pay.” With that, Molly brought her self up and onto the land, her tail still partially in the river. Sherlock stood dumbfounded staring at Molly's tail as it swished in and out of the water. "What?" Molly snapped at Sherlock, but he didn't seem to care“Mermaids... I have never seen a mermaid..." Sherlock mused. "I heard they were beautiful, a wonder of this world, but never have I seen such... wow...” Sherlock stood there, mouth a gape as he looked at Molly, who turned as red as Irene's lips. “Whoa, Johnny boy. Who knew Prince Shirley would be so articulate.” Irene asserted as she too brought her self to shore, her Scarlet tail matching her bra. She crossed her arms and glared at the prince. “How is it that your highness has never seen a mermaid before?” Irene added. Sherlock looked down before he he rambled quickly. “There are no mermaids in the kingdom, except for in the forest. Since My brother's passing, our people have been supposedly forbidden from going into the forest, yet there is no punishment for those that do. I only enter here in little-” “Your brother has died?” Irene yelled. Sherlock turned to her, startled, and went to comment when she continued. “How so? He was a great healthy man, why has he died?” He sighed again. Sherlock explained. “According to my brother, He had been hunting with his men when he had been killed by a centauran, by bow and arrow.” They were silent for a moment. “Sherlock, was the arrow fire tipped?” John interjected, looking hopeful. “I was told that no, they were emerald-tipped. Why?” John swore. “Dwarves usually have flamed tips, centaurans with emerald-tipped. I swear my kind would not have... At least I hope so...” John moved towards the water and away from Sherlock, face crested fallen. “It matters not if it twas thy kind or not.” Sherlock assured John, walking towards him slowly. “Thou is not at fault for the doings of another of thy kind.” Sherlock said, putting his hand gently on John's arm. John only sighed as Sherlock laid his hand upon John's arm. “I wish that was known to everyone." John mumbled before straightening up and letting Sherlock's hand fall from his arm. "I am one of the last centaurans, myself and Gregory. My parents were one of the first killed, and my sister disappeared. I hope she had went into the town under the Witch's guard.” Sherlock looked confused once more as he asked, “The witch's what? Whom is this wizard?” “Martha?” Irene asked and John nodded. “Martha, she's a sorceress of great wisdom and age. When the forest began to go under attack, she created ways to turn human in appearance and let us hide in town. Greg is in town wearing one as we speak. Swear to secrecy and I shall show you one of her ways.” Once Irene had stopped talking, she looked up at Sherlock, who took to a knee and said, “You have my word, Miss Adler.” “Good. Although I was only joking about the whole secrecy thing. Even if you told everyone, who'd believe the freak of London" [At that, Sherlock winced] "-as some of the other mer-folk call you” Irene then tipped the rock she had been leaning upon and pulled a seashell necklace from below and put it on herself. A scarlet colored wind swirled around her before disappearing and revealing her bare with only the necklace on. 

“Irene!” John barked. He then took off his tunic and tossed it to her. "Stop flashing people." John yelled "S'not good." John rubbed his temples as he turned slightly. She caught it and slipped it on, but not before adding, "Oi Johnny, relax. I'm sure Sherlock was fine with the view." Sherlock turned bright red as he looked ay towards John, now shirtless, and saw his toned chest and purple scar on his chest. Before Sherlock could ask, John had turned and started trotting away, calling behind him, “Irene, lead Sherlock there. I shall go retrieve you proper garments". Irene rolled her eyes as she walked to his side. “You were chec" she said, putting king out his chest, weren't you?" her one arm up to lean on his shoulder. The tunic had fallen to halfway down her thigh. It had been big, even on John. "That scar...” Sherlock stuttered “Oh that. Evil sorcerer Sebastian had hit him with a spell there, meant to kill him but he changed his mind. He won't show it, but it hurts him. Always hides it, the scar and the pain... But, enough on your crush, Sherlock. We must find Martha before sunset, or else there will be something. Moriarty's men like to patrol at night. If you are staying over night, John will probably allow it. See you later, Molly. Give my best to Gregory!” and with that, they were off


	3. The Sorceress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, Irene will be a bit OOC, but that will change later in the story. Btw, British: Biscuits-> American : Cookies  
> IDK for other countries, sorry. If there are other names, please leave a review and tell them, please. Or just review on how I did and all.

"So, Sherlock..." Irene drawled, looking at Sherlock. "We have a bit of a walk ahead of us until John returns. He'll probably join halfway there. So, tell me about yourself." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What doth thou wish to know-" "Can you stop." Irene stated. "I know you have read that book, can't recall its name, but you know normal speech. Use it please. All the 'thou' s and 'thy 's and 'thee' s are old." The book was known as Modern Linguistics, and was filled with updated wording for 'modern men and women! This IS the 14th century!' Was written by this lady of bright pink and a high pitched voice whom, upon meeting Sherlock forced him against the wall in secrecy and tried to have her way. Sherlock physically shuddered at the memory. "What was that?" Irene asked, staring at Sherlock. "unpleasant memory of that... particular person. " "Cut the crap, Petunia Petal was a bitch. To be specific, a merbitch. She was kicked out of our waters and onto land because she was rude to gay merfolk... What did she do- No! That absolute-tried to have a go with you, didn't she." Sherlock nodded, not daring to look up at Irene. "Sorry mate. How'd others react upon hearing of that?" Sherlock kept his eyes as he mumbled out a reply. "Most in the kingdom told me how I should have... My brother Mycroft was the only one who didn't act like I fucked up. She had forced herself against me and I may have.." "Please tell me you did-" "I broke her nose." "Yes! That ought to have taught her a thing or two! Good job, Sherls!" Sherlock smiled bashfully as he looked up at her, cheeks pink. Irene patted his back gently as she laughed musically."I wish I could have gave her my two sense, but Gregles blocked me" Sherlock rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips as he pondered. "Irene?" Sherlock asked "Who is Gregles, who I'm assuming is Greg from early... Who is Greg?" He looked nervously at her, but she didn't notice. She just smiled and said, "Is someone jealous because of Greg being important to John?" "Jealous? Why would I be jea-ack!" wham, mid-sentence and trips on a tree root. She burst out laughing beside Sherlock as he has, once again fallen straight (one thing he can do straight ^v^ ) into the mud. He pushes up onto his elbows and glares at Irene's figure, shaking in laughter. "Come on, klutz." Irene said, starting to walk up when Sherlock caught and tripped Irene who fell with a shriek. Sherlock panicked for a second. He'd never really had anyone to joke with. 'Did I take it to far? Fuck, did I just screw this up? What if she yells, hates me, what if they turn their backs on me. I don't know where I am and I could have gotten some friends for once and now-' Sherlock's train of thought was crashed when Irene started laughing beside him. "Guess I'm the klutz now, huh." She said, giggling. "Quick reflex Sherlock. Could come in handy." They both were getting off the ground then as Sherlock replied "Thank you..." with eyes focused on the dirt, where he left a body print on the soft soil below him, same for Irene. Both started laughing at that, and continued walking, but when Irene glanced back, they had some how smoothed over.

They continued walking, laughing lightly along the way when Sherlock looked at Irene and noticed she'd torn the tunic. "Oh dear, I-I'm sorry..." He stuttered, gesturing at the tear as they continued walking. "Its fine, Sherls. John's got tons, don't freak out" Irene replied nonchalantly. Sherlock shook his head, turning to his satchel. He opened a pocket, pulled out a large white sheet, and handed the sheet to Irene. "Do you actually have your own clothing items?" Sherlock inquired to Irene who stared at the sheet. "Like dresses? No. Actually, John usually gives me a tunic or something when I transform. Why?" Sherlock didn't answer as he glanced around quickly until he spotted a rock. With a hum, he swooped one arm under Irene's knees and the other at her back, promptly picking her up. She squeaked a bit at being picked up, but relaxed quickly into Sherlock's arms. "What are you-" "Hold on" Sherlock replied, his voice deeper and quieter, his focus else where. He placed her on the rock then quickly glanced around. "Swear to secrecy. I won't hurt you, but this is a secret I dare not share." Irene nodded, confusion evident on her face. Then, Sherlock took out a pair of Scissors and tossed them in air, along with a cylinder of thread and a needle. He held up a hand and purple coloring admitted from his hand, floating around the tossed materials. Then his other hand rose as did the sheet in Irene's grip surrounded by the light purple mist. Oh, sorry, lilac. It wrapped gently around her. "How does it fit? Not too tight, correct?" Sherlock asked, looking nervously at Irene. "Fits fine, Sherlock, why-" She stopped when the scissors danced around her, cutting off the extra material which then went back into Sherlock's open satchel. Then the string threaded through the silver needle, white like the sheet before sliding through the fabric, other needles slipping from the satchel and hitting other areas in a few moments the strings were all tied and cut, then the cylinder of thread along with the needles and pair of scissors returned to the satchel and the lilac mist dissipated, letting the dress lay on Irene. It was a simple dress, two straps to hold it up with a modest neckline they fell, in length, past her knees. "Hold on one more moment..." Sherlock said glancing behind him. Then he hummed and walked over to a fallen tree. He worked out his sword from the sheath, glanced at it then returned it, muttering "wrong one..." then pulled a dagger from the sheath on his left. It then was tossed and caught by his lilac mist and began hacking at the wood until a pair of heels were forged out, a bit deeper than most, but then fabric slipped out and covered the inside. Once it was complete he picked them up and held them out to Irene, whose eyes widened with surprise.

"It's not the best, but I hope it will do o-" "You made me a dress... and these lovely shoes...-" "Just don't call me your fairy godmother. Fairies are not what I'd like to be compared to-" "Hey, I know a fairy. She is brilliant, but she can be rather stubborn and gets her heart up in too high of hopes. But she is also tough as fuck." Sherlock nodded and muttered "sorry", eyes at his black buckled boots. "Its alright, Sherls. Also... thanks for this... who taught you that?" Sherlock looked up and smiled, a faint pink in his cheeks. "My old nanny when I was younger. My other brothers were already training, although Mycroft usually hid in the library to study, smart arse. I was left with my nanny, just her and I. One day, I was, don't laugh, playing pirates and hop around the bed when I tripped on the blanket. Nearly hit the ground when this deep blue mist caught me before I hit the ground. It rose and placed me gently on the bed, and she had walked over, the mist circling her hands. I sat there silent, and she sat down next to my, pushed a black curl behind her ear. Then, I looked up at her, I was so happy and there were tears in my eyes. I asked her 'You have mist hands, too?' She looked at me, eyes wide as she nodded. I smiled, and it was one of the happiest moments that I could remember. I showed her how if I thought really hard, the mist appeared on my hands, too. She taught me how to use my powers and one of the first things was sewing because I kept tearing things, particularly at the knees of my pants. It was wonderful, learning about it and finding someone else who was like me. Only three sorcerers I knew then, her myself and Sebastian. You know his story, right?" She shook her head no quickly, riveted on his words. "I can tell you that one in a moment. But, I want to tell you something. She was the one who helped me accept it and control it, my powers and my other quirk...-" "Quirk?" Irene interrupted. Sherlock cringed slightly. "At an early age, I already showed what most would call feminine qualities, like sewing things-" "Hold on did you-" "Once!... Or twice... They were easy to move in and I didn't have them tear. Only Mycroft and Hudders ever allowed it. My father never knew, but my other brother, he threaten to tattle. My father did not care for such, and only recently has the new law actually got backed up." Irene nodded, then spoke up. "Before you tell me Sebastian's story, will you tell me two things?" He nodded. "What is the new law and whom is 'Hudders'?" Sherlock sighed, "The new law means that citizens are not allowed to persecute members of the kingdom whom stray from the normal in religion, sexuality, gender, appearance, or talent. Those who disobey are fined and if cannot pay then must work for the castle to pay off the debt. And Hudders was the nickname for my old nanny Mrs Hudson." "Yes, dear?" an older woman's voice rang out as a creaky door opened.  
They had reached her home, light purple painted building with a dark purple roof and a light blue porch upon which a lady with short silver hair curled up, and sky blue eyes twinkling. "Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock whispered joyfully as she looked at him, a smile pulling up on her face. "Sherlock! I haven't seen you since you were young and set Mr. Hudson on fire!" "You what?" Irene yelled, interrupting Mrs Hudson. She laughed as she leaned down from the porch to hug Sherlock. "It was an accident- wait, no it wasn't. He had barged into my room where Mrs Hudson was with me, and attacked her. He hit her and I got mad. I was still learning control and he burst into purple flames and turned to black ash... he deserved worse." Mrs Hudson stood back from the embrace and nodded. "Still loved him, even when he hit me. But, now he's gone and I have a forest to try and save." She rolled her eyes and looked at Irene. "Sherlock, its gorgeous! You've been practicing? And the shoes... Did you steal the queens books and materials? " Sherlock shook his head, "Not this time. I spoke with her in private and made a deal. I can have any the materials left over if I made her dresses. This one I made quick so none would notice and so she could be better dressed. Not that she didn't fit well in a tunic, but I thought something more eloquent would be better." Mrs Hudson smiled brightly and her eyes turned deep blue with a glow as she exclaimed, "Well come inside and show me what you've got. I'm sure Irene would love more dresses, right dear?" Irene nodded quickly and Mrs Hudson walked back in. Irene turned to Sherlock and mouthed thank you before turning and following Mrs Hudson in, Sherlock trailing behind

The inside was much bigger than what it looked. "Its bigger on the inside, not by magic exactly. Had a friend, he helped do this, this doctor fellow. Heard he died, but I don't know. Anyhow, welcome to 221B! That's the name, since the last house I had kind of exploded. Spell gone wrong. Had to leave the kingdom, and my job as a nanny for the royals. Sorry about that, Sherlock. You've turned out alright, I mean you're twenty two, well you will be in a few months... Its August now, your birthday is in January... Okay, not a few but close enough. Now, the sewing room is up one floor, Second door on your left. I'll bring the tea and meet you there, dearies." They walked up the mink spiral stairs with the pink railing and Sherlock shuddered a bit at the memory of Petunia. They continued to the first floor into a hall with six colored doors, three on each side and each a different color. The sewing room was deep blue, like Mrs. Hudson's mist. Inside where stacks of colored fabrics, every shade and color and pattern in a small square that pulled out to show infinite amounts of the fabric and a small cylinder of thread to match. There were shelves filled with books on different patterns and styles, along with books for other things like knitting. There was yarn, buttons, lace, ribbon, pins, and needles of different sizes in different colors, and there were mannequins of different sizes. Sherlock's breath was taken away as he looked around, a breathless smile on his face. Irene looked at the fabrics curiously, and found a silky red one she liked. "Irene, take three pins here and attach it to the squares that have the colors you like following that silk texture, please. This way its a dress you may like more, not like a green, orange, brown one I guess?" Irene made a gagging noise hearing the other color scheme, and choose her colors. Red, black, and gold. Mrs Hudson entered and set the tea and biscuits on a table near them. They all pulled up chairs and enjoyed it, Sherlock only having tea while Irene and Mrs Hudson snacked on the biscuits. " Sherls, why don't you try a biscuit? They are wonderful!" Irene mumbled through a mouth full. "Sherlock, have one please?" Mrs Hudson asked gently. "I'm not hungry, but thank you. The room is amazing, by the way. The fabric?" "Never ending spell, I'll teach you later. But now, show me how you do. Try the grandest dress you can- hold on." She snapped her fingers and a dark blue puff popped around her. Once it slipped away, it revealed, well nothing because she had disappeared which could be considered nothing. Then, a clip clop and Mrs Hudson enters, with John, in centaur form, following. "Sorry John, it doesn't work. The scar can only be undone by shared connection of the sorcerer who put it their, either lover or blood relation. Until then, centaur. Ready when you are, Sherlock!" John looked at Sherlock curiously before turning to look at Irene and whistled. "Where did that dress come from?" Irene turned white and looked down silently. "Sherlock, we can not do this-" "Mrs Hudson-" "Call me Martha." "-Mrs Hudson, John will find out eventually and if he never ever wishes to be near me again, that's his choice." Then Sherlock turned his back to them and walked to Irene. He tilted her head up to look at him and whispered "Ready?" She nodded. He pointed to the room behind him and she went in and returned in under garments i.e. a white linen tank top and linen pants. She glared down at the outfit like it personally offended her and stepped up on the podium. And got to work.

He waved his hands and the purple mist appeared he took a deep breath and rose his hands. Irene gave him a small smile as she put her arms slightly out. He swooped one hand and the three drawers opened by the mist and flew out, Sherlock wrapped the black material around her torso and sent scissors, then red flayed out at her waist and soon she had a whirl wind of red, black, and gold swirling around her in a blur. Then, the fabrics stopped and the threads fell back, excess fabric in three piles on the floor and everything else filed away. There Irene stood, eyes peeking open again and arms settling at her sides. Her black top had a neckline like the bumps atop a heart, at her waist a thick golden ribbon that led to a long red skirt that went to her knees then had six small layers in the pattern yellow black red then repeat. Sherlock tentatively stepped up and gently took her arm and led her to the mirror at the far end of the room. Neither noticed the blue puff of smoke, for both were staring at her reflection. She stepped back and twirled around, the skirt lifting slightly. "I love it" she whispered turning to Sherlock. He smiled bashfully, and whispered "You look beautiful." before returning to staring again at his boots. He was about to move when Irene wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He went stock still then slowly relaxed into her embrace with a smile. "Hey John, hey... whoa" and Molly is there. Sherlock and Irene were to busy looking at the dress to notice that Mrs Hudson had popped off again to let Molly in.Molly was slightly flushed as she looked at Irene. "You look... wow..." She said, slowly and timidly walking over. Irene just smiled until they made eye contact, the they began to giggle. Sherlock stood back and heavily flinched at John's hand at his shoulder. If John noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. He looked at Sherlock smiling and said, " that was absolutely amazing. A proper sorcerer." Sherlock nodded, looking at his feet while color filled his cheeks. "Brilliant, bloody brilliant." John spoke, mostly to himself it seemed but Sherlock had to keep looking down. 'Its just a crush, Sherlock. It'll be gone eventually" he thought to himself. "Yoo-hoo! Greg will be joining us in an hour for dinner. Hope you all enjoy spaghetti. In the meantime, the Red room is gaming, Purple is sleeping, yellow is exercise, orange is a restroom, and green is off limits. Labratory. Knew Sherlock would need teaching eventually. And remember this. All that happens in this house stays ib this house. Irene, inform Molly about it, or Sherlock. Enjoy!" and Poof, blue smoke and Mrs Hudson left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, Ages at this point  
> Sherlock: 21  
> Irene: 20  
> John: 24  
> Molly: 21  
> Mrs Hudson: You never ask a lady her age! (47. She watched Sherls when he was 7 roughly)


End file.
